


A Happy Accident

by throughcrimsonstars



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-02-23 05:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2536244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/throughcrimsonstars/pseuds/throughcrimsonstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Clara are momentarily stuck with the kids in the Maitland's house, because of a mistake. What at the start seemed like a inconvenience would turn out to be a good experience for the Time Lord and his companion after all...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Doctor Who. Unfortunately. I'm not English ant this is my first fan fiction, too, so please be kind. Helpful criticism is are very, very welcome, because I want to improve. Rudeness is not. That said, I hope you'll enjoy. :)

The Doctor was fiddling with the controls of his beloved TARDIS. His touch was gentle and soft, as if he was stroking the most adorable puppy to have ever trod on the planet Earth. He knew perfectly well how strange the console of his blue tainted ship must seem: so overwhelming and so complex, with all its buttons and keys and weird things with no name. On the other hand, he knew it like the palm of his hand. It wouldn't be wise to say that he knew it like the inside of his pockets, because his pockets, unlike any human, ordinary pocket, were so much bigger on the inside - Time Lord science. He could fly from a part of the universe to any other while keeping his eyes closed and he usually embarrassed himself in front of his companions dancing, pirouetting happily around the console, because traveling through time and space with the TARDIS was the best thing ever. He enjoyed the familiar wheezing sound that announced that he had landed safely. He looked at the screen and he smiled so brightly the sun would have seemed pale in comparison. He had landed at the right coordinates.

"Good job, old girl", he said patting her gently, "You really do always take me where I need to go"

So he opened the doors with a snap of his fingers and walked out to face the Maitland's house. He stormed excitedly to the front door and rang the bell more times than necessary. He waited, fiddling with his hands impatiently. He rang again until, at last, he heard footsteps approaching the door. He fixed his bow tie. Bow ties are undeniably cool. The main entrance to the Maitland's residence opened and showed a very sleepy Clara in her nightgown. He was surprised to see her like that. He was used to her being always impeccable, from her hair to the shoes she wore. He couldn't stop himself thinking that she still looked very pretty, even with the messy hair and the deep circles under her eyes, which looked a little bit annoyed at the time. He wondered why she looked like he had just forced her out of bed. He wondered whether she was sick. That would have been a bit of an inconvenience for his desire to show her the wonders of the Universe.

"Doctor?" she asked, bewildered "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean what am I doing here?" he replied, with a shocked look on his face "Isn't it obvious? It's Wednesday aka awesome adventures' day. So get ready, off you pop. You wouldn't BELIEVE what I've got ready for you. I personally find it hard to believe, and that is something I can tell you".

"Doctor..." she tried to speak, but, too late, he had started bubbling on about his plans and how much she was going to like what it was he was going to show her.

"It's actually an opportunity of a lifetime, you know? People have to wait years and years, centuries too see it, but we are lucky because we have the TARDIS. I don't know why I've never thought about this before. This is perfect". That said, he stormed into the house. Clara followed him inside, utterly speechless. She watched him bounce next to the stairs and into the living room, happily and enthusiastically as little children are when they go to Disneyland. She heard him open the tap of the sink in the kitchen and knew right away he was putting the kettle on for tea. Despite the fact of being an ancient alien from a galaxy far away, he could be extraordinarily English at times- she thought. She stood there, motionless, staring at the point he had just disappeared from. He then stuck his head back from the kitchen with an interrogative look on his eyes.

"What's the matter?", he asked, and then he ran forward with an expression which Clara immediately recognized as worry. "Are you OK? Are you ill?". He reached a hand to her face, as if too see if she had a temperature. She pushed it aside a little impatiently.

"No Doctor, I'm FINE", she sounded exasperated. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. He could see how tired she looked. "But what exactly are you doing here?"

"It's a Wednesday, like I told you" he replied "We always have adventures on Wednesday, don't you remember?"

Clara smiled at him the sort of smile that mothers give to their children when they are being silly. "Oh Doctor" and she put a hand on his shoulder sympathetically "Today is Thursday. And it isn't even six o'clock in the morning, yet".

When he understood what she was saying - and it took a incredibly long time for a man with his IQ - his jaws dropped in astonishment and he just stared at Clara.

"Oh my god" he gasped "Am I a day late?"

"Actually", she said cautiously, "You're six days early"

He frowned at her. "Don't be silly. Don't ever try to make a fool out of a Time Lord. It could be the last thing you ever do".

As a response, she raised an eyebrow. "There's no need to be so melodramatic, Doctor". And then she laughed. Her laughter was contagious, so the Doctor had to repress a smile when he asked her why she was laughing. She shook her head and she sighed.

"It was just yesterday when you left us home from that planet..."

"Xafirum?"

"That's the one", she nodded, "you left us home in the evening and here you are again, the next morning. You couldn't even wait for the sun to wake up properly too see me, could you?". She had a cheeky look on her face, which meant that she was wide awake and that she was the same old Clara by then.

"Shut up" he snapped at her. And, after a slight pause, he said: "Sorry, Clara".

"It's OK". She smiled at him and he smiled back. She moved forward and hugged him. The Doctor accepted her into his arms and breathed her in, smiling into her shoulders so she couldn't see how happy her embraces made him. The hugging was a natural part of his relationship with the people who traveled with him, but he was sure that hers were the sweetest of all. She would wrap her arms around his neck and keep him incredibly close to her. He could feel her clinging to him as to dear life. That made him feel more protective towards her than ever. They broke apart when they heard someone coming down the stairs.

"When you two lovers have finished snogging, could any of you here explain to me why I was woken up so early?", they heard Angie's usually moaning voice say, "Really, isn't the usual time early enough already?"

She did look very tired, just like Clara, but now the Doctor could understand why.

"Sorry Angie" he beamed at her "but don't just stay there sulking. Look at the bright side".

"Why?" she frowned "Is there a bright side?"

"There's always a bright side",he said, "for instance, you could enjoy the sunrise, for the first time in your life"

She shrugged. "If it means waking up this early, I prefer watching it on TV, thank you very much", she yawned loudly, "What's so great about sunrises anyway? I can watch the sunset and it would be practically the same thing"

Clara and the Doctor laughed. "You're even worse early in the morning, you know?"

"Well what do you expect?". She started walking back up the stairs, when she stopped and fully realized what he had said to her. "Ohi" she cried out to him, "What does it mean that I'm EVEN worse in the morning? Worse than what?"

The Doctor chuckled and didn't reply, and Clara giggled. He swung his arms around his impossible girl's shoulders and they both just stared at Angie, trying hard to keep back further laughter. The teenager looked at them in bemusement and then gave up. She marched to the second floor with her nose stuck up in the air, probably thinking that they were just being stupid and that they didn't deserve any other second of her attention. Clara smiled up at the Doctor and then freed herself from his hug.

"I'll finish preparing breakfast. Why don't you go and wake up Artie?" she said to him, "Seriously, sometimes not even bombs can wake him up" and she shook her head while heading for the kitchen.

The Time Lord didn't need to be told twice. He sprang up the staircase and with only a few long steps he was facing the door to the boy's room. Unlike Angie's door, it didn't have a big sign on which it was written in big red letters: KEEP OUT, so he felt free to knock. Actually, it wouldn't have stopped him anyway. He saw "keep out" signs as suggestions more than actual orders. Like "dry clean only". While thinking that he felt an unpleasant sensation at the pit of his stomach. A painful memory came to his mind, about Amy and Rory. He remembered that he had told them that in one of their last adventures together. He still missed them a lot, but he was slowly learning to cope. And not thanks to his strength alone. He would probably still be sulking on a cloud above Victorian London, if it wouldn't have been for a certain Souffle girl. This though made him smile again. He knocked one more time and, without expecting any answer, he opened the door.

He took a look around with the help of the dim light coming from the corridor from which he hadn't moved yet. The room was small and tidy. He could tell right away that it was Clara's doing. On the other hand, Artie's personality transpired through the Harry Potter posters on the walls and the chessboard in the middle of the carpet with all the pieces occupied in an unfinished game. He gazed at the bookshelves in the corner, full of books, half of which he knew coming, in a way or the other, from the boy's nanny. He loved that she was so enthusiastic about reading and that she made Artie love books too. People could even travel through the entire time and space and books were still the biggest adventures of all. And the ones read at Artie's age are the most important of all. On the bedside table he saw the big volume he had personally convinced him to read. The boy now sleeping profoundly next to it had been more than a little bit intimidated from the number of pages, but the devotion he had built in regards to the Doctor had convinced him to at least give it a try. A few hundred pages later, Artie was fully aware of why The Count of Monte Cristo was one of that more-than-a-thousand years old alien's all time favourites. The Doctor smiled at the figure fast asleep and realized how much he had grown fond of the Maitland's kids. Angie could be quite annoying at times, like any average teenager can be, but she was actually a very smart and independent girl and also quite funny, if she wanted to be. He could see now why Clara cared about them so much and why she didn't run out on them to go and stay full time with him on the TARDIS, like other people before her had done. Somehow, this unusual arrangement he had with her didn't make him feel uncomfortable at all.

"Artie?", he called at him. Still no reply. He then moved forward, towards the bed. He touched gently the blanket that covered him, and than shacked it to try and wake him up. No feedback whatsoever. The Doctor frowned and realized he had underestimated Clara's last comment about the boy's deep sleep. While pondering on his next move, something caught the Time Lord's eye. Something shiny he hadn't noticed before because it was right behind Alexandre Dumas' novel. This distracted him from his duty and while he reached out his hand to pick it up a terrible feeling crawled into his mind. The small object was now in his hand, glittering almost magically in the dark. His hearts started to pound energetically in his chest and the fear to spread in his entire body.

"Oh God", he gasped, "Oh God, please don't..."

He started to shake vigorously Artie's small body. He cried out his name several times until, finally, the boy replied a very tired "What?" without opening his eyes.

"Please Artie wake up", the Doctor shouted, "I need to know. Where did you get this?"

The boy slowly and sleepily stood up in a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. With some difficulty he tried to adjust his eyes to the darkness of the room and to focus his sight on whatever the Doctor was showing to him. It was a small, perfectly oval, purple rock which shined beautifully in front of him like a diamond. He recognized it right away.

"Oh yes", he said to the anxious Time Lord leaning on top of him, "I took it yesterday from that place we went to"

The Doctor looked like a man who had just realized that his worst nightmares had come true. He swore through his gritted teeth. "Why, Artie?", he bellowed, "You knew perfectly well what the situation was, I told you what would happen if..."

"But I thought that it wouldn't do any harm something that small", the boy interrupted him with a teary voice. He tried to excuse himself, but he knew he had let his hero down. "I'm so sorry", he added, with a very low and trembling tone.

The Doctor felt guilty about shouting at him, so he apologized. "Don't worry Artie, I know you didn't mean this to happen. Maybe I can still fix everything" and he rushed out of the room. Clara, who must have heard the racket coming from the floor above, was standing at the foot of the stairs with an apron tide around her waist and an interrogative look on her face.

"Doctor", she asked, "What is going on?"

He didn't reply and practically flew down the steps and miraculously managed to avoid a painful fall. He raced beside her while she repeated her question in a more urgent tone. He was sorry, but he didn't have time to give her an answer, not just yet. If only he could make it to the TARDIS in time... But he managed to run only a couple of steps when the earth beneath his feet shook violently, making him nearly fall. He heard the children's screams coming from the house behind him. He knew that Clara would stay calm and immediately try to reassure them and that they probably thought it was an earthquake, but he also knew that it was no earthquake and that it was to late for him to do anything. He saw a powerful force field being created in a flash of red light all around the house, from the ground to above the building, forming an invisible dome which, as his experience told him, had just sealed them off from the rest of the world.

Then he felt a loud sound reverberate in his mind that made him clasp his head with his hands and close his eyes in pain and surprise. It was a cold, professional and female voice which spoke to him:

_ "By the decrees of intergalactic security from epidemics and maladies, the human house and his inhabitants are set in quarantine until further notice". _

And then everything fell incredibly and dangerously quiet.

 


	2. Chapter 2

_The Doctor had told Clara and the children that he would take them to the most amazing place they had ever seen, and he did. Clara didn't tell him this, but she was actually surprised he had managed to take them there without being redirected by the TARDIS to a mortal peril. It was satisfying enough to fight monsters and save lives, it's just that they never seamed able to go to all the places he had promised to show her. That place made up for all that. At least, that is what she had thought at the beginning of their day out. Her second sensation had been of deep relief. The kids might have not needed saving this time and she could - sort of - relax._

_The planet of_ Xafirum _was incredibly beautiful. The fields were made of golden flowers which shined against the light purple sky, crossed by giant silver birds. The Doctor had told them about the cities made of minerals where the small and pale inhabitants of_ Xafirum _lived. They could see them floating not to far from them, from time to time. They had been strange looking creatures. Artie had pointed out that they looked like jellyfishes and they all silently agreed._

_They had a nice picnic, next to a peaceful waterfall of the same color of the sky where in stead of fishes they could find what seamed like purple, shiny, diamonds. They ate the sandwiches that Clara had so lovingly made for them before leaving. She had managed to satisfy the liking of every single member of the little group, including the Doctor, who had extremely difficult and strange taste. They had lain quietly on top of a big blanket which Clara had chosen from one of the TARDIS' cupboards. It was very comfortable, so it hadn't took long before they had all fallen asleep on top of it, sheltered by the big ruby trees which were, like everything else on that planet, unlike anything they had ever seen. They all had wonderful dreams. It had been liked the air was filled with such magic to fill their souls and minds. Everything had been just perfect._

_And then everything had ended when they were woken up by strange and loud noises. It had seamed like the air had been filled with wails, but it was nothing like a normal, human wail. It had been a scratching sound, but at the same time very melodious. It had made them feel sad and frustrated and emotional all at once, and that made them very confused._

_"What's happening, Doctor?", Clara had asked with an anxious look on her face, while trying to keep the Maitland's close to her, even though Angie had kept trying to escape her grasp and snorting that she wasn't a baby anymore, unlike her brother. Clara had simply ignored her. But the Doctor didn't have any immediate answer to her question. He had run across the field util he had reached the first living being in sight. It had not been one of those floating creatures, though. It actually had a very human look, except for its red eyes. He had turned out to be an employee of the intergalactic security from epidemics and maladies. He had told them that the planet had to be set in quarantine and that there were many agents like him who where working on it in that precise moment. That had made all of them very scared and they all started to fear the worst: that they were going to be sick and die. Only then did that weird man with red eyes explain what was the problem. It was a very peculiar kind of disease which had spread through all the planet and needed containing before further dispersion. It had an unpronounceable name and had the particular feature of infecting every cell of the organic and inorganic things belonging to the planet in which it was born. That knowledge made everyone if that small group breathe a sigh of relief, except for Artie who hadn't understood what that meant so they had to explain it to him. They didn't belong to_ Xafirum _so, exceptionally, they weren't risking their lives and they could go back home unharmed. That also explained the sound they had heard before. It had been the creatures who inhabited the world of_ Xafirum _moaning and complaining. Anyway, that infection wasn't even dangerous after all. For some reasons only the guy and the Doctor could understand and that they didn't bother to explain, nor were the other three interested to know, it only made everyone very weak. Though it wasn't life threatening, the man told them that it was quite annoying and that it had principally economical, political and social consequences. It would die out by itself after a while and then the real problems would start, with trying to go back to normal and so on. He had been a bit vague in the details but no one had been interested enough to ask for more clarifications. They had been too happy about being alive to question him._

_That event had put an end to their trip. They had headed back to the TARDIS, Angie complaining as usual and Artie only a bit melancholic. The grown ups were walking a bit behind the children, hand in hand. The Doctor had then left them safe and sound at their door step. Angie and Artie had thanked him and Clara had kissed him softly on his cheek before wishing him a good night._

* * *

The Doctor swore silently through his teeth, staring blankly at the sky with his hand on his hips, as if waiting for something to happen or to arrive out of nowhere. He then sighed and turned to face the house where he now knew to be stuck 'until further notice'. He saw three people in front of the door he had left open because to busy to try and reach the TARDIS. They were all staring at him. Clara was in the middle, holding both children close to her with her arms around their shoulders. For once, Angie wasn't trying to break free.

"What's going on, Doctor?", Clara asked him, trying not to look to much concerned.

"This" replayed the Time Lord, lifting the purple rock he was sill holding firmly in his tight hand, "This is what is going on"

He saw Artie going all red and looking away with a guilty look on his face On the other hand, the two girls looked puzzled at what he was showing them. They didn't recognize it right away, so they both looked at him in bemusement.

"Ehi",said the younger of the two, all of a sudden "isn't that one of those shiny rocks from the waterfall where we had our picnic?"

The Doctor pointed at the girl with his forefinger to acknowledge that she was right.

"But Doctor" Clara frowned "how did that happen? You told us not to bring anything back to Earth with us"

Artie seamed like he wanted to dig himself a hole and disappear forever. He felt the Doctor's look fixed on him and that made him on the verge of tears. The two girls noticed the look too, so they both gazed at him and understood the situation right away.

"Well, isn't that the usual stupid Artie?", his sister launched herself towards him, with her fists closed, but Clara shielded him with her body.

"Angie!" the grown ups warned her in unison.

"Well its his fault we're in this mess" she complained loudly to them, no more threatening to beat up her little brother, but still looking at him fiercely, with her arms cross in her chest.

"Everybody makes mistakes, Angie" Clara told her patiently "You aren't perfect either"

"Yeah" the Doctor agreed, smiling widely at her "No one's perfect".

Artie was shaking and trying to keep himself from crying. That wouldn't have helped his cause with Angie.

"I'm so sorry", he whispered, "I put it in my bag before picnic and then I forgot about it and then when I remembered I didn't think it was such a big deal, it was only a rock"

The Doctor sighed and then smiled warmly at him, because he was so young and making mistakes was so human. He didn't want him to feel too bad for that. He walked to him and put reassuringly his hand on the boy's shoulder. When he spoke, he brought his face close to Artie's.

"It's OK, it's not the end of the world as we know it. You see" he explained "the disease infects every cell in the planet where it is born, even the inorganic... stuff. Fortunately it has been contained early enough. It will all be finished soon" he concluded, trying yo keep it the most simple as possible. He continued smiling at him and that obtained him a shy response, but it was there. Clara beamed at the Doctor, rewarding his efforts to reassure Artie.

"See?" she told him "As the Doctor said, it's not the end of the world" and she kissed him softly on the head. Then she added very matter-of-factly: "Well, the eggs are broken. We better make a good Souffle out of them"

"Shouldn't you say 'Omelette'?" Angie asked her.

"Souffles are always better, especially when there are omelettes involved. Lets go and have breakfast".

They all laughed and went inside.

* * *

 "I suppose I can see now what _'looking at the bright side'_ means" Angie said, halfway through Breakfast.

"What?" Clara asked.

"We can't go to school until it's all over" she beamed at them. Also Artie's smile widened.

"Yep" Clara replayed, watching them both intensely while sipping a cup of tea "That means you'll have more time for studying and doing your homework". The Children both burst in complaints and argued that they deserved a holiday and that she wasn't their mother.

"By the way!" the Doctor interrupted the fight "Where's George?". The children frowned and Clara burst into laughter.

"Seriously, Doctor?" she looked at him with a commiserating smile that made him try hard not to be offended "For being so clever, you can be really slow at times" but then she saw the hurt look in his big, sad, ancient eyes. She gave him a sweet kiss on his cheek and he smiled back at her. "George is away for a few days. He's in Cardiff for work".

The Doctor served himself with more toast with Marmite and butter, took a bite and said "Well" he chewed and then before continuing he swallowed "That is fortunate".

Clara had prepared for them a very nice breakfast. When she had called them in the kitchen telling them it was ready, the Doctor had found himself staring at a table filled with everyone could possibly need to have a satisfying breakfast. There were foaming cups of tea, dark coffee and milk for cereal. She had made toast with butter and Marmite and strawberry jam and scrambled eggs with bacon. There was also healthy fruit and orange juice. There were even Jammie Dodgers, prepared, the Doctor felt, especially for him. The children hadn't looked surprised, evidently that was normal for them, but he couldn't believe his eyes. His mouth started to water when he saw the Jammie Dodgers. He reached for Clara's hand and squeezed it. They smiled at each other.

"Clara", he told the girl, his eyes fixed on hers "this is amazing". Than he had hesitated, before saying to her that she was impossible, even though he hadn't specified that he usually though at her as his impossible girl. She had blushed a little.

"My mum always said that the breakfast is the most important meal of the day", she had squeezed his hand back, still smiling at the Time Lord "you can't start the day without it"

* * *

"So" Artie broke the silence after a few minutes "Are we going to get sick or whatever?"

The Doctor shook his head. They all waited for him to stop chewing his piece of toast. "They started the quarantine soon enough. They moved much more quickly this time. In _Xafirum_ it had already infected all the planet" he replayed with his mouth half full "and anyway, it works more weakly when its transferred from where it has created itself" he stopped to think a second before continuing "at worst, we'll feel a little bit weak"

"I'm starting to feel weak already" Artie said frowning slightly.

"That is because you're weak by nature" his sister said matter-of-factly.

"Angie!" her babysitter warned her "the air does feel a little heavy, though".

The Doctor had stopped listening. He was too busy washing the bitter taste of coffee with a more decent beverage -tea- and Jammie Dodgers. Coffee is not cool.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Angie and Artie had eventually resigned their attempts to avoid their duty as students. Clara had been very firm about that. They had complained that they felt tired, probably because the Doctor had woken them up so early and everything. Clara had simply replayed that it was a good exercise for their future selves, because one day it would be only normal studying while tired, and to stop inventing excuses. She probably had only wanted them to shut up and go on whit what they needed to do, but in fairness, they did look quite tired. Anyway, the Doctor had admired her for her attitude towards the children. She was firm when she needed to be, and very caring and sweet all the rest of the time. He had always thought that she would make a great mum someday.

Now the siblings were on the table Clara had cleared for them after they had finished eating, their eyes fixed on their books. Artie had an important math test the following week. He was a bright young man, but the Doctor had told him that if he needed any help for anything at all, he would be at his service. To him, helping the boy would have been easier than solving one of those puzzle 3-5 years with the huge design on top of it and as fun as playing Wii tennis, which, by the way, they didn't have. Unfortunately. He had spent the last half an hour sitting on the couch, waiting for something to do to walk right in front of him before dying of boredom. He had offered his help to Angie, too of course. And of course she had shrugged and said nothing. She was studying history, one of the subjects he was the most eager to help them with. He had lived history. He had met  Charlemagne in person, he was there at his coronation, what could those text books possibly tell her of any use more then he could? But he stayed silent and didn't say anything. If she wanted to, she would ask him without him insisting. So, she probably wouldn't. Maybe there was still hope with Artie. 

For a while he tried to read a book he had found on the coffee table. He thought it was probably Mr. Maitland's, because it was a thriller about a former soldier who tries to redeem himself for an old mistake he had made by helping the CIA catch a terrorist. He found it so boring he couldn't give it half of his attention. Once in a while he glanced at Clara. She looked very tired, just like the kids she was looking after. He felt sorry about bursting on them like that, but he knew it had been better that way. He was happy he hadn't left them alone to face all that, without knowing for certain what was happening ,and that they were OK. That was probably the reason the TARDIS had brought him back so early. She knew everything, that old girl.

He watched Clara sweep the floors and wash the dishes and whip the kitchen counter. A naive outsider could think of her as an hardworking Cinderella, but in his imagination he saw her more as a very cool Mary Poppins. He smiled to himself for this silly thought. A few times Clara caught him staring at her, but she didn't say anything. She just smiled at him and he smiled back before turning away to that boring book.

He at last gave up and said to anyone who was listening that he was going to repair something and improve what remained that wasn't to fix. He then disappeared in the basement. They soon started hearing noises coming from there. Clara shook her head and laughed, but Angie brought her hands to her face.

“Great” she sounded exasperated “I already have a bloody headache... the last thing I need is to have the Doctor trying... to destroy... our... house.” 

She felt a little out of breath at the end of her small speech. She breathed deeply a few times, with her face still buried in her hands. “I can't do it anymore. I feel like I'm going to... explode.” 

She stood up. She fell back on her seat and she stood up again. She let herself fall on the couch. “God, I'm so tired.”

Clara was cleaning the kitchen counter. The more she went on, the more she felt her arms ache and she felt as if her legs would yield at any second. When she saw Angie laying on the couch, she caught her breath and wiped the sweat from her forehead with her arm.

“What is it, Angie?” she asked “are you OK?”

She had a moan as a reply. Angie was always very melodramatic and easy to find excuses for avoiding homework. Teenager are so difficult, sometimes. She tried to think whether she was like that when she was the same age. She couldn't think straight, because her had started to throb in pain.

“The Doctor... isn't trying to destroy our house” her breathing was heavy, she felt it a little hard to breath. Was she getting ill? She hoped not. It was probably nothing.

“I... I'm going...upstairs.” She picked up the laundry and then maid her way up the stairs, a step at the time. When she reached the top, she had to stop to breath. Her head was spinning. She nearly dropped the basket, so she laid it on the floor.

“Maybe... I'll lie down... just one second” she whispered to herself.

She stumbled in her room and made it just in time to the bed before her legs felt too heavy to move any longer and she fell on top of it.

She realized that something was wrong. She couldn't bring her mind to understand what was happening but she knew that she needed the Doctor. She could still hear him working down stairs. She didn't have any strength to shout , to draw his attention. She reached with a hand to the bedside table and felt her cellphone under her fingers. She hoped very hard he had his with him, while she dialed feebly the numbers, one after the other. The phone rang, but nobody answered.

“Come on, Doctor...” she told to no one, because no one was there to listen. “I need you...”.

She felt her eyes heavy and everything going slowly dark.

* * *

Artie felt sick. He couldn't breath properly.

“Clara” he called, very faintly.

He had to tell her he wasn't feeling well. He stood up and felt like is head was split in twp by an ax. He swallowed the pain and fought against the tears that he felt stinging his eyes. He tried to make his way to Clara but his legs felt just... so... heavy...

He let himself fall on the stairs. He was too tired to climb those steps. They seemed so difficult to climb. They never seemed that way before. He would rest a bit before facing them. He closed his eyes and fell unconscious.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The Doctor had been working on the boiler, trying to fix it. Actually, the proper word should have been improving, because it had not needed fixing in the first place. He only needed something to do, something to kill the time with. The universe is so big and ever growing and ever changing, and he was stuck there, in a common home, in a ordinary everyday life – if you didn't count the force field which held them hostages from the rest of the world. He had been in a similar situation before. It had seemed like a long time ago. Amy and Rory had not been stuck in a insurmountable New York of the past by a Weeping Angel, yet. It had been the year of what Amelia had called “the slow invasion”. Life had seemed to have reached a weird balance between his life and their lives, but he had known all along that it was to fragile to last. It was normal for him, everyone left him sooner or later. It was normal, but it's not something he could get use to. But what was the point of being more than a thousand years old if he stopped caring. He could not stop caring after the Ponds had been taken away from him, either. For a while it had felt like it was one loss too many. He had felt so broken inside ha had not found any better solution than shutting the rest of the world out. He couldn't help but smile. Where would he be in that precise moment if it hadn't been for his impossible girl? She had dragged him kicking and screaming down of that cloud and now he had no intention of letting her go. He felt so alive and that was probably the reason why ha was so restless. Every minute that passed was a lost chance to see what else the universe could show to him and a lost chance to bring Clara with him. 

Clara. He had always thought it was such a beautiful name. 

And then he tried to shake off his mind the images of the way she looked at him sometimes, and the way that made his hearts beat.

He was so lost in thoughts and busy working on the boiler, that he didn't see the phone lighten up. It was the strange feeling that something was wrong which usually saved him from dangerous situations that made him stop soon after and look around. He saw the missed call by Clara. This alarmed him, even though it might have been simply a mistake. He ran up the stairs, his hearts beating fast again, but this time not because of a happy memory. He landed in the living room, and the first thing he saw was Angie sprawled on the couch. He flanged himself towards her and immediately reached for her pulse. It was there and he could see her breathing, but they were shallow breaths. Clara and Artie must have been in danger, too. What was happening? He smelled the air and gasped. How stupid he had been. He had not realized that the force field had not been calibrated properly and the air had gone missing, a little bit at the time, moment by moment, until there was nothing left for them to breath. He hadn't noticed because he had very different needs than humans have and because he was stupid. He hadn't noticed that their tiredness was caused by lack of oxygen. He grabbed his screwdriver from the pocket of his coat and run forwards, looking quickly for the right app. He flung the door open and stumbled outside with his hand raised high, the screwdriver pointing to the sky. 

He heard a reassuring buzz coming from the item in his hand that meant that he was managing to adjust the air to Clara's and the Maitland's need. He took a long breath and filled his lungs with the air which was starting to come new and fresh. Following a sigh of relief, he rushed back inside. He checked quickly on Angie, still sprawled on the sofa. He reached for her pulse and looked at her chest moving up and down. The Doctor smiled and grabbed for the blanket nearby and covered her with it, tucking her in. He found a cushion and put it under her head, trying to make her comfortable. When he lifted her so to position the pillow, Angie moved a little but she didn't open her eyes. That meant that she wasn't unconscious, but simply sleeping. He stayed next to her for a while, looking at her, monitoring the moving of her chest, which was getting more decisive and secure by the second. He could feel her breathing deeper breaths and thought that he had made it in time and what a miracle life was, how wonderful and how fragile at the same time. But that was also what made it so precious. They had come so close to losing their life and it was all his fault. He tried so hard to keep everyone safe , but, really, no one was ever safe with him. She wasn't safe. His Clara. His impossible girl. He had put her in danger once again, and this time without even making her leave the house. 

He left the teenager to recover in the living room and, on his way up he found Artie lying on the stairs. He worryingly pressed two fingers against the boys neck and smiled feeling the beats in response. He leaned even further to hear the boy inhaling and exhaling in a perfectly normal rhythm. He must have adjusted by himself just like his sister. He stared at him for a few seconds, with a sad look on his face. He should be more careful when it came to Clara and the children. The guilt caused by this thought stabbed him painfully like a sharp knife. He picked him up gently and carried him up the stairs. He would leave him to rest in his bedroom, the same place where he had woken him up that same morning, very early. It seemed already like a long time ago. The boy felt so light, like a spirit, but he knew he was safe. He had got to them in time. Now there was only Clara left to check upon. What if something had gone wrong with her, for some reason? Every step he took, he could feel his own hearts increasing their speed, pounding mercilessly in his chest as if trying to burst free. He became almost unaware of the body he was holding in his arms, the only thought in his mind, which was more than used to multitasking, was focused on Clara. He couldn't stop thinking that he didn't know for certain if she was safe, yet. He started feeling incredibly impatient and the urge to check on her as soon as possible. Almost shacking , he left Artie on his bed as gently as he could before marching towards the attic, where he knew he would find her.

He crossed the space which was left between them as if he was in a dream. He wasn't really conscious of his body moving, his legs seemed to walk by them selves, but he could sense very clearly the sound of drums coming from inside his chest, while all the rest seemed, all of a sudden, so silent. He almost threw himself towards the bed where he saw Clara lying. He grabbed her face with his hands and begged her to be alright. He reached for her pulse and he was relieved to feel it regular. He tried to take a deep breath and to calm himself. He couldn't believe how uncharacteristically irrational he had suddenly become. He fell to the ground and on his knees he hugged Clara tightly but also sweetly, he didn't want to wake her up. He knew how important it was for her to rest. 

“You're OK,” he sighed happily, “everything is going to be OK."

He rested his ear to her chest and closed his eyes to the rhythm of her heart and he couldn't help but think that it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He staid in that position for an indefinite quantity of time. It felt as if it was a few seconds, but he knew, because of his infinite knowledge of time, that it had been longer than he would ever admit to anyone. He forced himself to lift his head, but he didn't nudge away from that position. His face was close to hers, but It was a position he had gotten used to. It felt as though he didn't need any personal space with her. He felt comfortable to be that near to her. He liked taking her hand and stroking her face and embracing her tightly. It all felt very natural. The way she smiled at him and the way they interacted gave him goosebumps and a tingly feeling at the pit of his stomach. In those moment a voice in his mind that he couldn't control told him that he was crazy about her, but that was not something that made him comfortable. 

He pressed a long and gentle kiss to the girl's forehead. He brought her face close to his own, his thumbs stroking her cheeks, creating small circles on her tender skin. He lips looked so soft and welcoming. He thought about their kiss in Victorian London, the one she didn't know about. He had been caught by surprised, so aghast that he had tried to pull away, scared. It would have been a good kiss if he hadn't, he thought. She was sweet and beautiful and that make him recall that kiss more and more often as time went by. He would never confess that to anyone, though. Ever. 

And now she was there, so fragile and yet perfect. He looked at her with tenderness and, before he could stop himself, or even think about what he was doing, he leaned slightly forwards and he kissed her. 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

The kiss began as sweet caress of her lips. Her lips were soft and tasted incredibly good - they tasted of worm tea and roses. But before the Doctor could come to terms with what was actually happening, Clara responded to his kiss. At the beginning her touch was gentle and tentative. He felt her taste him carefully. His head started spinning while her arms leaned forwards to grab delicately his face and shoulders. A warm feeling pervaded his chest. It was as If time had frozen and the entire universe had stopped moving.

And he forced himself to stop. He felt as if, if he didn't, it would be too late, although he didn't quite know what he meant.

He shifted from her and she moaned, as if complaining, but he realized that she was still sleeping. That would have avoided an uncomfortable conversation, but still...

“Stupid, stupid Doctor,” he slapped himself in the face, as if to wake up from a bad dream. His hearts were beating hard.

What was he thinking? He felt so ashamed of himself and he tried to keep his mind from wondering to what he had just done and to the way Clara had responded to his kiss. He had to forget it had ever happened and act as normally as possible. He could do it. He could deny to himself it had been anything more than simple weakness.

Shaking away any thought or desire like snow from a coat, he found a blanket and used it to cover Clara. He hesitated for a moment on her resting body, before moving away his hands and passing them through his hair instead. He pulled it in frustration and groaned. He hated himself so much sometimes. He started pacing the floor, marching up and down in the center of the room, his eyes staring at his shoes and his mind far away. He thought about all the different ways he had loved the people who had traveled with him. He thought about all the different ways he had endangered all the people he loved. There were parts of him which tried to keep everybody safe; on the other hand he couldn't handle being alone and he was more dependent on their presence then he cared to admit. He always made things more complicated than they already were. He remembered Rose, forever sealed in another dimension; Martha, who walked the entire planet to save the Earth, in a year that never was, and who was strong enough not to let him brake her heart; Donna, who had been forced to forget what a beautiful human being she was; Amy and Rory, lost in a different time; River, saved in the database of the computer of the biggest library in the universe; all gone. And Clara? She was still there and she was perfect, perfect in every way for him. Always brave, always funny, always exactly what he needed. Perfect. Too perfect. He wouldn't mess things up, he wouldn't ruin this new kind of relationship, so new and scary to him, but also surprisingly breathtaking. He was trying to keep her safe, and he couldn't bring himself to honestly accept that the real way to keep Clara safe was not to take her with him in his journeys in the TARDIS. He knew he would never find the strength to do it. He never did. He knew he was selfish. This was something he would never be able to forgive himself.

He stopped walking and rubbed his eyes. He sighed and looked sadly at the room which seemed to close on him and on his guilt and his thoughts, with all its welcoming environment, which he could sense he didn't deserve. His eyes fixed on the details which made it Clara's room, and of no one else. The “101 places to go” was on the bed side table, as usual. This made him smile. He wondered why they had not been to any of those places, yet. He looked at her, sleeping peacefully and wondered why she had not asked him to take her, either. Perhaps, she was saving them for last or maybe she was afraid to spoil everything, somehow. The other books she owned were neatly placed on shelves. He had never noticed how many there were. He liked books and he liked the people who read them. He mentally noted to show Clara his library, she of any one would love it. He would also take her to meet all her favorite authors. He came close to to the bookshelf and caressed the back of the covers. He glanced at the titles and could see mainly classic novels. He could imagine Clara reading them to her students, once she left the Maitland's and started teaching, because he knew it was what she wanted to do. He knew she would be amazing as a teacher.

 

* * *

He passed the following hours working about the house, trying to be as quite as possible. He worked in the garden, swept the floor, improved their main computer and calibrated the television so that it could transmit every channel of the world in every part of history. Only at work accomplished, he started thinking about how to explain all that to George. He shrugged and decided to leave that burden to someone else.

Every now and again he went back to the attic to check on Clara. When he was there he lingered in her company more then necessary. They probably would have woken up to a whole new house, if he had focused his entire attention only on those chores. He had sat on her bed, next to her but not daring to touch her, even though the temptation of caressing her skin or moving the hair from her forehead had burned through his veins like poison. He came to check on her one last time, just in time to hear her moaning and see her stretching her arms. He could see in her sleepy eyes that she had just woken up. She smiled at him and he smiled back at her from the entrance to her bedroom, before crossing the floor in a couple of steps and supped her face in his hands. He couldn't resist any longer. She didn't pull back, at all. In fact, she came further into his grasp and caressed his hands with her fingers. She was behaving as normal, nothing in her smile or in her eyes showed that she thought that something was wrong. She didn't remember the kiss.

“Hello, stranger,” he said to her.

“Doctor,” her voice was tired but happy, “what happened? I... There was something wrong.”

“Everything is OK, now,” the Doctor told her, “I made it OK.”

She looked at him softly, straight into his eyes and reached for his cheek and stroked him gently with the palm of her hand. “I know. You always do.”

He looked at her with melancholy in his eyes. He pulled away without any anger or haste, but Clara seemed a bit hurt when he did. He sat at the edge of the bed and looked away, but he rested his hand on top of hers.

“You almost died,” he whispered, “It's all my fault. I'm so sorry.”

Clara didn't say anything straight away. She sat up, moved her legs off the edge of the bed and soon he felt her next to him, but he didn't turn to look at her. She lifted gently his chin and moved his face in her direction. He sighed but she kept on smiling at him.

“Those big sad eyes,” and that was enough to make him feel better. He stopped listening to her reassuring words, because he couldn't stop thinking about her shiny eyes and her lips. He touched his own with his fingers, still feeling the kiss he would keep as secret as his name. He had not even noticed that she had stopped talking.

“Is everything OK, Doctor?” she said with an inquiring look.

He jumped to his feet and wore a big smile. “Of course! Why would anything be wrong?” he started gesticulating frenetically, as he so often did, “I'm absolutely fabulous! Never been better in my entire life! So, who's up for some tea?”

“Tea is the third best thing in the world,” she laughed, “I would never say no to tea.”

“OK, then,” he dedicated to her one of his goofy grins and gave her the thumbs up, before pirouetting out of the room. Once he was out of her sight, he exhaled slowly. He lingered a while In the corridor, with his face hidden in his hands. He had to put the memory of that kiss behind him. He would also have to try and deal with all the feelings which were intensifying each time he was around Clara.

“Come on, Doctor. You can do it,” he said to himself, slapping his own right cheek.

Before going downstairs, he checked on Artie. He pushed the door of the boy's bedroom slightly ajar. He watched him sleep peacefully. Everything in the house was still and quite. He cherished the silence, before leaving Artie to his sleep. He had decided to let him rest.

He prodded down the steps, nearly tripping when he turned the corner, managing to remain on his feet by grabbing hold of the railing of the stairs. He went on as if nothing had happened, used to his own clumsiness. He hoped that he would loose it with the next regeneration, though.

In the living room, he saw Angie opening her eyes and yawning.

“I could see what you ate for breakfast from where I'm standing,” he greeted her cheerfully, “don't you know it's good manners to cover your yawns with your hand?”

“Shut up,” she snapped at him. Teenagers and their hormones, he thought. They can't even get a joke. He remembered when he was like that. He was so young, only two hundred years old and...

“Anyway, what would you know about manners, Doctor, presenting yourself at our doorstep completely uninvited, at six o'clock in the morning?” she teased him, interrupting his stream of thoughts.

“Ohi,” he pretended to be insulted from her words, “I thought I was always the welcome here.”

They both burst into laughter. Angie had her moods and she could be difficult to deal with, but the Doctor had managed to create a sort of bond with her. That had mad it easier to settle in the Maitland's family. They were all used to him – including George, even though he didn't know about all the time traveling and everything – and he had gotten used to them. It reminded him of when he had traveled with Rose. He had become very close to her mother and Mickey, back then – even though he hadn't been mad about either at the time, to be completely honest. Rose didn't come home as often as Clara, though. He liked that. He liked about her how she didn't run out on the people she loved. He had learned it already the first day he had met her. At least, this version of her.

“Fancy a cup of tea?”

“Mmmm...” she hesitated, and then replied with a not a very amused tone, “yes, why not?” and she fell back on the sofa.

He almost danced into the kitchen. He opened the tap and filled the teapot. He started humming to himself while he put the water on the fire and looked in the cupboards for three mugs. He chose the most childish cup for Angie. He knew it would annoy her and that made him chuckle. He chose one similar for himself, because he thought that cups like that were funny. They gave a whole different taste to tea. He sang Singing in the rain and songs from the end of the universe and melodies he had heard from trees, played with branches and leaves. He found different types of tea on the shelves. He opened every container and smelled inside, inhaling the perfume of raspberries and vanilla and mint. Clara must have chosen them personally. He would take her to Tytrelyon, a planet whose inhabitants lived only on tea. He smiled in trepidation of the idea of her excitement.

“You are very cheerful, today,” Angie said with a raised eyebrow, “Even more than usual.” And then she added under her breath: “If that's even possible.”

“Well,” he wondered without lifting his eyes from the teapot he had just taken off the stove and the boiling water he was pouring in the different mugs, “actually, I've had a lot of up and downs.”

“Are things up and down... with Clara?” Angie asked with a cheeky smile on her face.

He still avoided her gaze, finding something else to keep him occupied.

“What? Oh no...” he pretended to be cool and not interested, “I don't know what you are implying by that.”

“Oh yes, you do,” she laughed, “Why would you blush, otherwise?”

He felt his stomach somersault, and his hand reached automatically for his face to see if she was right, and she was. “Shut up,” he retorted.

He passed her a cup of tea, responding to her smirk with his tongue out. Not very mature., but still...that little Dalek. He sipped his own tea – still boiling, it burned his tongue – and then left it on the tray, next to Clara's. He climbed carefully up the stairs, trying not to spill a drop. He slowly opened the door of the attic, only to find Clara still in bed with a book on her lap. He saw her finish what she was reading before looking up and smiling at him.

“Thank you very much.”

“You are very welcome,” he said, placing the tray on the bedside table. He looked at her and she looked back. The simply stared at each other in silence. He smiled and was just about to open his mouth to speak, when he remembered something important.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, making her jump for the surprise, “I forgot the biscuits!”

Clara laughed. “Jammie Dodgers, I presume.”

“Oh yeah,” he clapped his hands together and then he pointed his forefinger at her and moved quickly to the door, “I'll be back in a sec.”

He was practically out of the room, when she called back for him.

“Yes, Clara?”

“Mmmm....” She wasn't looking at him.

“What is it?” he looked curiously at her, but also a little worried.

“Did...We...” he could see her looking for the courage to speak, possibly to find the words to say whatever she wanted to say. After a few seconds of silence, she shook her head and finally looked at him.

“Nah, it's stupid!” she smiled shyly, “it was just a dream, surely. Sorry.”

He saw her blush slightly. He nodded faking a grin, and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him and thinking that she had probably recalled something about the kiss.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

_ Artie woke up soon after. There was still some warm tea left, so the Doctor brought him some. He sat on the bed and called also Clara and Angie, so that he could explain to all of them what had happened. He apologized and they all dismissed the thing with a few words. They didn't find him responsible of what had happened. They reassured him that they didn't think it was his fault at all.  _

_ Clara told the children that, because of what had happened they were excused from doing their homework. Artie sighed in relief and Angie frowned: “Dah,” she said, “obviously.” _

* * *

 

“I'm so relieved. I really don't feel like studying right now,” Artie said. 

“Me neither,” Angie unexpectedly agreed with him. 

They were still all in his bedroom. Nobody had moved from their position. Artie was still lying down, the same place the Doctor had found him when he had come in; the time lord was sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs stretched out and his hands, which were held together, were resting just in between; the girls where crouched on the floor, a position ideal to listen to the Doctor, as they had done until a few minutes ago, but which was becoming more uncomfortable by the second now that he had finished. No one had done the first move, yet, the one that meant that little reunion was over and that they were all free to do they're own things. It was as if they were waiting for something, a signal – anything really. Silence had fallen in the house, heavier then the one the Doctor had been able to enjoy for a while when Clara and Angie had just woken up. 

“Well,” Angie added, after a small pause, “If you don't mind, I'll be going in my bedroom and chat with Nina. And... do other stuff I'm not obliged to tell you about.”

That said, she stormed out of the room with her nose half in the air. They all heard her steps reaching her room and Angie closing the door behind her. They didn't say a word, but when they heard the key turn in the lock coming from the same direction she had vanished, The Doctor, who had until then kept his eyes fixed on the floor, and Clara shared a grin. It didn't last long. Clara looked quickly away, as she help herself to a standing position. Still keeping her eyes away from his direction, she took her time to smooth the dress she had changed into when the Doctor had been to check on Artie. It wasn't really that crumpled or dirty, but she felt a bit awkward and needed to keep her self occupied with all the means she had. It felt like pretending to use the cell phone to avoid the gaze of an acquaintance on the street or to fill the emptiness of an embarrassing silence. 

She looked intensely at the Doctor, frozen in her position for a few seconds which felt eternal, before looking away quickly and saying: “I'll go and get the tray in my bedroom.”

The Doctor stood up awkwardly, with his body leaning towards her but not moving: “Of course!” he gesticulated, “Want...Want some help?”

He looked hopeful. His expression turned to hurt when she responded with a vigorous shook of her head, so she forced a smile and added: “No need. I'm strong enough to carry a tray, but if I am in any danger, I know who to call”, she blinked at him and giggled nervously. She marched out of the room without looking back and stopped to breath only once she was shielded by her bedroom door. She leaned against it with her back, her closed eyes covered by her hands. 

She didn't know what to think. She had woken up, less then an hour ago, feeling perfectly normal, but there had been something at the back of her mind that had told her that something had happened. Something important. She had shaken it away momentarily, while leaning in the Doctor concern and attentions, oblivious in his hugs and touches and caresses. But she couldn't repress that feeling forever. The memory had emerged so softly, it had taken her several seconds before realizing that what had happened wasn't actually normal. At the beginning it had come to her memory as a dream. That had made her blush privately. What would he think or say if he knew she had dreamed about snogging him? It would probably scare him to death, and that idea made her chuckle. But time had changed that: it had all become more vivid and real and what she had believed to be a dream, was now as clear as a memory lived in a state of drowsiness could be. When she had called back the Doctor on his way to get his Jammie Dodgers, she hadn't been sure, yet. She had tried confronting him on that, but she had backed away at the last second. What if she had actually been wrong and it had been simply her imagination? It would have been SO embarrassing. So she had taken the time he was away to think whether the Doctor had really kissed her or not.

She was fairly positive on the matter, now. He had kissed her while she was half asleep. She didn't know hot to process it all. She didn't know why he had done it. She didn't know what to feel about it and certainly not how to behave. While she was in the room with him, Clara had felt awkward, embarrassed,unusually shy. She needed that time to decide what to do. She could act as if nothing had happened. He certainly would have wanted that. He didn't look like he was ever going to talk about it. He was more of the type to avoid such a discussion. She wasn't like him, though. Her impulse was to take control of the situation, whether he liked it or not. 

It was difficult to decide how to do it. First of all, she had to decide what feelings she had towards him and towards his actions. She couldn't deny she sort of fancied him. He was handsome and tall, funny, kind, very intelligent and he brought her places and made her life never dull. Also, the way he treated her always made her heart beat fast. She really felt a deep connection with him and they never seemed to be able to take their hands or eyes off each other. She was obviously attracted to him. And that, she could still allow. But it wasn't as simple as that. That made easy the temptation to fall in love with him, too. That could not happen. She had started reciting to her self the mantra “Don't fall in love” since the beginning. She knew it would be a very bad idea. She knew it because she understood what falling in love with the Doctor meant. First of all, he was a two thousand years old alien who frequently changed his face and personality instead of dying – she knew as far as that. Indeed, even if he reciprocated in his strange way – and she remembered how he reacted every time she'd playfully flirt with him – would he ever start with her any kind of relationship which wasn't friendship? They were doomed from the start. She felt confused and all these thoughts made her head ache.

“Clara,” she heard him call from below. She felt concern in his voice: “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” she replayed at once. She wondered if that would make him suspicious. And then she added: “Sorry! I'm coming, just a second.”

She had to decide rapidly what moves to take. She decided that she would confront him that evening, when the children were already asleep. He wouldn't have anywhere to run away to, because they were stuck in that house. That made her a bit scared, but at the same time in control. They WERE going to talk about it. In the meanwhile, she would have some fun, she thought to herself. She liked to see him upset when she flirted with him. Now she knew he actually was attracted to her, that was the only possible explanation for him to kiss her. Passing over that fact that having that kind of confirmation gave her goosebumps, that meant she could use it as a weapon. She would act all provocative, before passing to the serious part. That cheered her up a little.

 

* * *

She came down the stairs only to find the time lord waiting for her, standing on the last step, a hand on the railing of the stairs and the other in his pocket. For a second she thought the look he had in his eyes was of total adoration, but then he spoke and he looked his normal cheerful self. She was probably just conditioned by recent events. She better not start imagining things. “Clara,” he simply said.

“Doctor,” she simply replayed. She beamed at him. She went down a couple of steps and, unnecessarily tossing her hair backwards, she bit her bottom lip in a way she really hoped would appear as provocative. “Could you help me with this?”, gesturing with nonchalance at the tray she was carrying – without any difficulty whatsoever – with her hands. She felt a complete idiot acting like that, but it seemed to affect the Doctor like a spell. He just stared at her lips for a few seconds, before gasping: “Of course, Clara, let me handle this.”

Clara tried hard to hold back laughter. She let him lift the tray carefully from her hands. It seemed as though he was trying to avoid the slightest contact of between fingers. He was so concentrated in this effort, that he didn't lift his gaze once to look at her. He was about to turn when Clara stopped him by brushing softly his elbow and calling his name. His eyes were now fixed on hers. She had also made a step forwards, so they were very close now. They were a tray away from kissing, she thought. It felt as though they were invading even more than usual their own personal space. She imagined herself as an acrobat and she knew that if she did just one wrong move, she would fall right into those big sad eyes, with no means of coming back ever again.

“Yes, Clara?” his voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Thank you, Doctor”, she answered with his same tone of voice. She caressed his cheek with her thumb and leaned forwards to kiss him on the corner of his mouth. The Doctor rested softly against her while she lingered there a couple of seconds more than necessary. Than, she finally pulled back and they both smiled at each other. The Doctor had again the sweet look in his eyes she had caught while coming down the stairs, but maybe she had imagined it again because he soon turned on the spot and walked calmly to the kitchen, leaving her there to wonder if the fact that he had kissed or not had actually changed anything in that strange relationship, which felt always on the verge of something.

 

* * *

The two grownups had suggested to both the kids a game of Scrabble. Angie hadn't even replayed. She had simply ignored them by increasing the already high volume of the music which was coming from her computer. Artie had seemed tempted, but then he had explained that he preferred reading some more of The Count of Monte Cristo.

“I told you you would love it,” he grinned at Artie and shook delicately the boy's shoulder with pride clearly filling his whole body. He clapped his hands together – a simple gesture he did so often, but which Clara had grown to love – and looked at her: “It's just you and me, then?”

“The game is on, mister,” she laughed, “I'll beat you so hard you'll have to cry your way to the TARDIS because of the humiliation, once I'll be over with you.”

“We'll see about that, Souffle girl,” he retorted with a grin. 

They prodded hand in hand to the living room and he kept his fingers intertwined with hers while she reached for the board game. She freed herself from his grip only when she was unable to retrieved with only one hand. She soon realized that even with both hands free to move she was having some difficulty. It was higher than she had remembered, so she had to stand on her tiptoes, and even then she hadn't quite managed to grab hold of the box safely. It was on those occasions that she remembered how small she actually was. The Doctor was much taller then her, but their height difference had never bothered her at all. Actually, she found it very natural and comforting. 

“Hey,” the man behind her said, “let me help you with that.”

She stood still while he got closer, enough for her to feel his presence almost in a tangible way. She froze momentarily in her position, before seizing the opportunity and leaning back to press gently her body against his. She sensed his body stiffen and then losing his rigidity and coming even closer to her. He lay his hand on her left hip and she knew he could feel her shiver in delight under his skin. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest and almost moaned at the sound of his hearts beating.

The magic was broken when he had retrieved Scrabble from the shelf with his right hand and had shifted abruptly from her. He didn't look back as he put the board game on the table and started preparing everything. She followed him silently and sat down. After a minute or so, when all the things were in their own place, ready for them to start the game, he sat right in front of her. Now they were confronting each other, eye to eye. Clara sat straight and stared at him with all the intensity she could master. He looked a bit on edge but then he smiled at her encouragingly. She grabbed the bag with all the letters in it, and without moving her gaze she reached for a tile. She then passed it to the Doctor which brushed her fingers when he took the small blue bag from her. She couldn't tell if he had done it on purpose, but she had shivered slightly at the touch. He followed her actions and extracted the letter A from the mix. She hadn't even thought about what she had pull out of the back. So she looked down at the little tile in her hand. It was an E. High, but not high enough.

“That was very lucky,” she beamed at him, “I hope that wasn't cheating.”

“Of course it wasn't,” he mimicked an outraged face, but than he blinked at her. That made her skip a beat, so she responded by biting her lower lip, as for it had seemed to work on him previously. She congratulated her self when she saw him flinch. 

They stared at each other, until Clara broke the silence by saying: “You picked up an A. It's your turn to start , Doctor?”

He almost jumped, as if he had been sleeping: “Oh, yes! It's my turn, you're quite right.”

He pulled out his letters and clumsily past them to Clara. He almost spilled all the tiles out of the bag, but the girl caught it with firm hands. They both laughed and he apologized. She shrugged without saying a word. Her fingers reached for the letters, but, unlike the Doctor, Clara took a tile at the time, very calmly without turning away her eyes from the Doctor, who was lost in thought. His mind was probably searching for the perfect word to form with those seven letters.

She interrupted him by leaning forwards and caressing his elbow to seize his attention. He had a hand supported by his knee and the head was resting on his fist. He looked up when he felt her touch him and the sound of his name. “Yes, Clara?”

“Why don't we set a prize for who wins?” she said, challengingly. 

“Oh, I like prizes,” he chuckled, “for instance, what?”

“Well...” she looked away, trying to make him curious, “Whoever wins can make a wish, and the other one has to for-fill it.”

The Doctor thought for a few seconds. “Alright,” he said slowly. “No crazy wishes, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“No wishes which are impossible to grant. Nothing that can embarrass the loser to much. Stuff like that.”

She lifted an eyebrow and looked at him provocatively. Her entire body leaned towards him as she answered: “You've got yourself a deal.”

He smiled at her and he smiled back. 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

“Wow,” the Doctor gasped, as Clara finished to dispose the letters on the board. She spelled the word out loud, hardly refraining a complacent smile. She admired her work with pride. It perfectly fitted in the puzzle of words they had created in the last hour and a half. It had been a very slow game. They were both very good and they had took all the time they needed to try and beat the other.

“Well, let's see,” she rubbed her hands together, an excited look in her eyes. “There's two, five points, and then double letter. In all it's twenty five, plus triple word, so, in conclusion, it's seventy five points.”

He rubbed his forehead, not very encouraged by that sudden leap forwards.

“I think this kind of settles it,” she told him with a smirk, “what do you think?”

“Wait”, he pointed at her his forefinger, laughing, “there are still some letters left. The game isn't over quite yet.”

But it was. They both perfectly knew it was nearly impossible for him to catch up with the little that had remained. She had been one step ahead of him throughout the entire game. He had hoped until that moment he could remount. Now, he was doomed. He didn't care, though. They were both just enjoying each other company.

After retrieving the few letters left, she saw the Doctor deciding lazily his next move. She could see he had given up on trying to win, but still firm about going on until the very end. That had made him more relaxed, he had lost all the tension his body had accumulated in the effort of thinking and concentrating.

“He is really handsome,” she though dreamily, and, without even noticing, she started brushing gently her foot against his leg. This startle him, but he didn't pull back. He looked at her with his eyes wide open and his mouth slightly ajar. That made her realize what she was doing and it surprised her, too, but then she leaned her head slightly to her left and smiled at him sweetly. She saw his lips melt into a warm smile which reciprocated hers. His legs closed around her foot as he turned back to his thinking.

 

* * *

“OK,” he sighed, his hands in the air in a sign of surrender “You win. I give up.”

She jumped to her feet from her chair and made her way around the table to throw her arms around his neck. “Finally,” she whispered in his ear, as he circled her body with his arm and pulled her closer.

“Don't get too used to it,” he retorted, looking at her in the eye, “it doesn't happen often.”

“I know the perfect mean of celebration which is also an excellent consolation prize.”

“And what would that be?” he raised his eyebrow. They were perfectly aware of how close they were to one other.

“Tea,” she kissed his cheek and freed herself of his light grip on her. She felt his gaze following her all the way to the kitchen. She was putting the kettle on and retrieving the mugs from the cupboard, when she heard the steps which meant he was following her in the room. She didn't turn to face him, as she chose what kind of tea she felt like drinking.

When the water was boiling, she poured it into the cups and offered one to him. He thanked her and they both sipped the worm beverage in perfect silence. Clara lifted her head and stared at the ceiling. She could still hear the music coming loud and clear from Angie's bedroom. She left the mug in the sink and then looked at the Doctor. “There is still my wish”.

He almost choked on his tea. “What wish?”

“My prize for winning at Scrabble, remember?”

“Oh yes, I do,” he moved closer to her, “what do you wish for?”

She hold the Doctor's arms and caressed tenderly his skin with her fingers. “I... would like...” she spelled carefully her words, her fingers ascend slowly to his shoulders. He stared at her, his big sad eyes encouraging her to continue with her request.

“...to dance with you, Doctor.”

He burst into laughter. “What?”

“Really, Doctor, lets dance,” she said, rapping her arms around his neck, “I feel like dancing with you”. Clara could see the happiness shining in his eyes. She noticed the way he tried to contain his excitement in the way he looked away from her and stared at the ceiling in amusement, hardly able to contain an enormous grin by biting the corner of his bottom lip.

He lowered his eyes again and kissed her forehead. “Fine! A deal is a deal”, but she could see how eagerly he was intending to grant her wish, and, in fact he did admit: “I love dancing.”

“I know, you never shut up about it” she playfully touched his nose with a finger, “and you are always twirling around the TARDIS as if it was a dance-floor.”

He chuckled. “So, how would you like to do it? I do enjoy dancing ad weddings, more than anything. Have you been invited to any weddings lately, by any chance?”

Clara looked confused and opened her mouth to replay, but before she could find any words, he interrupted her: “Not a problem, I bet we can crash one of Liz Taylor's, she never minds. I think I may have missed one.”

The girl in front of him shook her head, smiling patiently. She took a step away from him, slipping her arms away from his neck and grabbed both his hands in hers. She started leading him slowly into the living room. “No, silly,” she started swaying gently to the music which filled the house, “I was talking about now.”

He started sweating and breathing heavily, “When you say _now_ , you mean RIGHT now?”

“I thought you were the expert when it came to time”, she tightened her grip of her hands, “now show me your famous moves.”

They both laughed, and let all their thoughts melt away. At every new step they felt their inhibitions and embarrassment vanish and they started to have more fun than they have had in a long while. He showed her the drunk giraffe dance and that made her stomach ache so much because of all of the laughter, that she almost fell to the ground. They waltzed around the room hand in hand and Clara made the Doctor laugh so hard his eyes watered when she improvised something that looked like a folkloric dance. They passed from moments when they couldn't keep their hands off each other to careful choreography which prevented their bodies from touching but not their eye from interlocking. Clara felt light as a feather as she twirled gracefully around him. She could see how she affected him. She couldn't mistake his feelings any longer. The Doctor was attracted to her as if she was a magnet to which he tried to resist, pulling back physically only to find himself dragged right into her all over again.

It was as if she dancing in a dream, lost in the chaos of feelings only that strange man could arouse in her, not enough aware to be scared of her inability of being in control, but enough not to let her impulses overshadow completely her reason. Because, in which case, Clara knew she wouldn't hesitate on pull him into her arms and kiss him. She resisted the temptation because she knew he longed for that too but he wouldn't allow it anyway. Or maybe he would, but then she wasn't sure if doing it was a good idea. She was practical also in the moments in which she couldn't think straight. Because that is what she was. That was what she tried to be. Always perfect. Always in control. Always reasonable and hard to impress. It was different with the Doctor, though. Being with him was easy and she knew she had him right were she wanted him, she could face him and stand up to him and she felt secure. But at the same time, her feelings and emotions towards that alien in purple jacket and bow-tie were too strong for her to manage, at a point in which she was won by them every time, even after all her efforts to tame them. To order herself not to fall in love. And in that moment she sensed it had all gone too far, that it was too late to go back, and she had the bad sensation that something would happen and all those feelings and emotions would consume her. She didn't feel ready for that.

* * *

Artie finished the chapter he was reading and closed the book. He pressed it to his chest and sighed happily. He felt so excited. It was all so thrilled, he found it hard to stop reading. In fact, he would have liked to go on, if it had not been for his stomach which had started to grumbled. At the beginning he had tried to ignore it, but he succeeded only for a few minutes. He was incredibly hungry. He looked at the time and realized with relief it was time for dinner. It couldn't be long, now, before Clara called him to say it was ready. He decide to go and check what the situation was downstairs, and maybe even steal something to eat to stop his tummy growling at him.

He jumped off his bed and made his way out of his room and to the stair. Before starting going down the steps he gazed at Angie's bedroom and glared at it. Why did the music volume have to be so high? If he hadn't been caught in the amazing story of the Count of Monte Cristo, he probably wouldn't have been able to concentrate because of the noise. Clara sometimes told her to turn it down. He wondered why she hadn't this time.

He realized why as soon as he was facing the living room.

The Doctor and Clara were dancing to that obnoxious sound his sister was playing. They were quite close to each other and while they moved they always kept their hands together. Clara was grinning at the Doctor and he was grinning back at her. Artie could see them shine in their happiness. The scene he had in front of him made him smile. They seemed to be having a really good time, enough to be unaware of his presence, lost in a place which held them,and them alone. He wondered whether love meant being with someone in a crowded place and still feel as if there was no one else in the universe, because that person was just that special. Both Clara and the Doctor were special, and they certainly were special to each other. Artie could see it every time, from the way they looked at each other, and the way they kept touching each other, and looking for each other presence. They didn't even deny they were boyfriend and girlfriend, so it must have been true. It was strange, though, Artie thought. He never saw them kissing. Maybe they were to shy in front of them, or maybe they thought it would be inappropriate to do so in front of children. Which was stupid, because both him and Angie were old enough and they had seen grownups kiss before. Mind you, Artie thought to himself, Angie probably already has kissed someone.

Artie watched them for a while. He almost forgot the hunger which had dragged him away from his book. They were so perfect together, he thought. Angie believed that, too. They had talked about it often. That was why he decided to show her the beautiful scene before his eyes. He hurried to her door and was about to knock, when he stopped, his fist raised in the air. He worried that if he did, she would switch off the music and this would ruin everything. He looked in his pockets and when he found them empty, he went to his bedroom. It took him ten minutes to find his cell phone. He typed slowly the message, while returning downstairs. He reread what he had written and sent it.

_Come down quick. You need to see Clara and the Doctor. Important: Don't switch off the music._

It wasn't long before he heard footsteps coming from upstairs. Angie rushed silently down the stairs and whispered to him. “What is it?” she urged.

He pointed to the living room. “Just look.”

She took a step closer and peeked into the room. She saw her friend and nanny laughing to a silly dance with the Time Lord. She smiled at the scene and then turned back to face Artie with a cheeky expression and glee in her eyes. “You stay put. I'll be right back.” She winked at him and added: “I've got an idea,” before running back to her room.

After a few seconds the house was filled with a different song then the one that had been playing. It was a slow song. Artie smiled and chuckled. “Good work, Angie!” he whispered to himself. The girl was quickly by his side, willing not to lose any part of the grownup's reaction.

* * *

Clara heard the slow song play. Until then they had been very cheerful and danceable melodies. Very energetic, also. This was drastically different. It was much more... romantic. She blushed slightly and looked up at the Doctor. He was looking tenderly down at her, adoration in his eyes. They both shrugged simultaneously and Clara giggled softly. He took a small step towards her, offering his hand with an encouraging smile. She closed the little space left between them, personal space a long gone memory, and intertwining her fingers through his. She felt his other hand rest on her waist and pull her closer into him. She responded by embracing his back with her free arm. His face was so near to her now, she felt dizzy and she forgot how to move.

He took the first step and she regained focus enough to start dancing with him. They danced in circles, lost in each other arms and each other eyes. Seconds past quickly and at the same time they were sealed in an eternal moment of pure happiness and perfection.

“Clara,” he started. He seemed to long for something, to say words he had searched for all his life, but was never able to properly grasp.

“Yes...?” she asked and she wondered when did they stop moving. Her eyes fixed upon his slightly opened mouth. She stood on her tiptoes as if to kiss him, but she arrested herself an inch away from his lips. She felt him breath uneasily over her.

“I...” the Doctor, who always loved the sound of his voice and who was famous for his beautiful speeches, had lost the ability to talk, “You...”

But then the song was over, and a new one started. It was like all the previous ones. Neither of them felt like continuing. They fell apart in silence. Whatever the Doctor was about to say, it was lost. Clara reached for her cheek: it was burning. The Doctor look at her almost painfully and then moved away and exited the living room. He stood in the kitchen, his hands on his hips, as if unable to face her any longer.

Clara embraced herself and sighed. “This has been a crazy day”, she thought sadly. She wondered whether it was dangerous for them to spend all that time alone, without no danger to occupy their mind.

The house finally fell silent, the only noise were footsteps coming in her direction. She turned her head, “Hello, Artie,” she smiled tiredly.

“Hello, Clara,” he replied, “will we eat soon? I'm starving.”

Clara gazed quickly at her watch and raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Oh my stars,” she gasped, “I didn't realize it was so late. I'll start to prepare dinner tight away. No wonder you're hungry, we didn't even have lunch today.” She ruffled his hair playfully and followed the Doctor in the kitchen.

She wore her usual mask of composure and the most convincing smile she had, pushing any need to talk and understand and sort out aside for the time being.

“I'm going to prepare dinner now.”

This startled him, he hadn't realized she was behind him. He had been lost in thought. Clara wondered what was on his mind. She was usually able to see through those big sad eyes. “I always know,” she used to tell him, every time he felt lost and needed comfort. And she usually did. But there were times like this when it was hard for her to tell what was on his mind. Maybe because she was afraid of what he hided.

“Sure”, he nodded, “would you like some help?”

She was about to reply, when her words were covered by a voice coming from the living room: “Oh please do, Doctor,” Angie said, “she is a terrible cook.”

Clara whirled around. Her fists rigidly on her hips, she frowned severely at the girl smirking at her. “Shut up”. And then with a high pitched voice, she added: “I'm not a _terrible_ cook.”

“May I remind you of the souffles?”

“One day I will be Souffle girl, and then you'll see,” she snapped, but then she felt a hand touch softly her shoulder, which soothed her and sent a shiver down her spine.

“You're already Souffle girl, to me.”

She automatically covered a smile with her hand and reached for the Doctor's with the other.

“Well,” Angie sneered, “you don't count, Doctor.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Clara looked at her surprised. The girl laughed and didn't answer. Clara looked inquiringly up at the Doctor, who hadn't moved from his position, and he simply shrugged.

“Never mind her,” she scowled, before sentencing “Teenagers,” as if it was the answer to all her problems.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

They ate a pleasant meal, thanks to the Doctor and his culinary skills, which he had earned in France in the XIX century, as he bothered to point out. There wasn't much food left to chose from, so he concocted an omelet with cheese and mint. They had never tried such a combination before, and it tasted wonderful. Clara helped with a potato salad, which, in fairness, was quite good. 

They chatted lightly through a mouthful and the next. Artie was very excited about his book and kept talking about it with the Doctor, who replied at least as eagerly. He seemed a little child and Clara laughed every time he said things like “I told Alex he should have written that instead of that other thing”, or “That scene was actually my idea, but Alex will never admit it...”, because she knew it was crazy, but she also knew it was true.

Being a true bookworm herself, she had read the Count of Monte Cristo, so she tried to join the conversation, but she miserably failed. They were so involved in what they were saying, that she couldn't possibly fit. They hardly even noticed her. Smiling and shaking her head she fixed her attention on Angie instead, trying to entertain her in conversation. It was never easy, but Clara always tried. Angie got board talking about school, reading wasn't certainly a topic they had in common and she responded to any personal question using monosyllables. On the other hand, that particular evening Angie seemed very interested in her adventures with the Doctor. For a new teenager trend Clara didn't really understand, the girl always looked indifferent towards practically everything. To appear tough and mature, perhaps. Clara understands Angie enough to know that she doesn't anything without a specific purpose, so that sudden interest by the teenager's part could only mean that she was up to something. Possibly, nothing good. She may be a bit prevented towards Angie, sometimes. She could be simply finally taking an interest in something that wasn't her, and after all her adventure with the Doctor were fairly exciting. But then, Clara eventually understood. Angie didn't really care about their trips through time and space. She started changing the subject each time Clara began entering into details about the places they had visited and people they had met. 

“Why are you so obsessed with the Doctor and me?”, Clara whispered through gritted teeth, giving the teenager a warning look. Angie put on her innocent face as a reply, but Clara could sense the mocking in her eyes. She didn't fool her. 

“I was just curious about your...”, she lingered, pretending to find the right word, “...relationship”. 

Clara's eyes widened and she felt her cheeks and her neck warm up. She glanced quickly at the Doctor, who was totally oblivious to what the two girls were saying, too caught up chatting with Artie. “Wha- Why would you even ask me such a thing”, Clara tried to remain clam, “We are friends”, she thought frantically for an accurate and innocent word to describe what they had, what they were. “We're traveling palls”.

She regretted these words even before they had stopped coming out of her mouth. “God, that was so lame”, she thought, and probably Angie did the same. 

“Traveling pal”, the girl raised an eyebrow, amused, “yeah, right”.

Clara stood up so quickly her chair nearly fell to the ground. “Shut up”, she hissed and started to clear the table. She gathered all the plates in the sink and opened the tap. The noise the water made was loud and it covered the constant chatting in the background. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out all thoughts, while waiting for the water to get warm. She didn't hear the footsteps coming near to her, so she stiffened slightly when she felt the Doctor's hand on her shoulder, but then she relaxed and gave in once again. 

“Hello”, she said sweetly, without turning back.

“Let me do it”, he was so close she could feel his breath upon her and this gave her goosebumps. She chuckled. “Sorry, I would like to keep this dishes. They are good dishes. It would be a pity to let you break them.

“Ohi”, he laughed back, “I would never break your dishes. Who do you think I am?”

“Mmmm...”, she pretended to ponder on the answer, “do you really wanna know?”

“Shut up”, and after he said that he embraced her with an arm and freed her of the plate she had in her hand and closed the tap. He headed her gently away from the sink. Clara resisted him, but without really putting much effort into it. “You already cooked dinner, let me do the dishes, you're our guest”. 

“It's kind of my fault that we're all stuck here, and anyway I'm happy to do it”. 

She let him guide her out of the kitchen before asking where he was taking her. 

“To bed of course”, he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the universe. 

“Doctor! It's hardly ten o'clock! I'm not a baby any more”.

“You had a very tiring day. You need to rest as much as possible”.

“I'm not tir-”, but her statement was interrupted by a giant yawn. She looked back at him guiltily and he laughed. 

“You were saying?”. Clara simply shrugged her shoulders and for once she let him be the boss.

 

* * *

When they entered her room, she diverged from the Time Lord to go and throw herself on the bed. She turned to look at him and he stared sheepishly right back at her. They remained in silence for a while. Clara finally felt in peace, so tranquil she wanted to freeze that moment in time to cherish for the times of need. When she felt her eyes becoming heavier, she reached for one of the books she kept on the bedside table. 

“Are you going to read?”.

“Yes”, she said, opening the book to the last page she had read. When she added nothing to that, the Doctor asked curiously, “What are you reading now?”. Clara felt a pleasant warmth spreading through her chest. She loved how he cared about her in a way that made him curious about everything about her life and who she was. 

“You seem to be reading a different book each time I see you”, he said, before he let her answer, “Soon you'll have read more books than I have”. 

“That's impossible. But still, it's not a fair competition. You've got more then a thousand years of advantage “, and then she showed him the cover of her book. 

“Ah, I see”, he sound impressed and she blushed, but yet he always was, that mad man with a box, “ _Notes from underground_ , a bit of light reading, I gather”, he teased her. She tried to smack him playfully with the book, but he dodged it. She smiled to herself, realizing just how comfortable they had become with each other. She loved the sensation, but she also thought that it was the strangest relationship she had ever been in. Not that they were in a relationship, in the romantic sense of the term. She meant it to be more generic, she didn't want to imply anything, just... “Oh shut up!”, she addressed her mind, who had suddenly seemed to have declared independence to her control. She was really tired. She covered another yawn with her hand. The Doctor came closer to her and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. She looked into his eyes and met a soft look that made her smile unknowingly.

“Tell you what”, he went to fetch the chair of her desk and moved it next to the bed, “I'll read it to you”.   
Clara burst into laughter, but then she saw the smile fade from his face. “Wait... Seriously?”

“Yeah”, he nodded, his face lighting up again. 

“Oh”, she was speechless. She thought about when she was younger, barely a teenager. When she imagined her perfect man she always pictured him reading her to sleep every night with her favorite books. This memory made her blush. “That... is really sweet. I'd love it”. 

She made herself cozy, while the Doctor flipped to the right pace, grinning. “ _ Somewhere behind a screen a clock began wheezing, as though oppressed by something, as though someone were strangling it. After an unnaturally prolonged wheezing there followed a shrill, nasty, and as it were unexpectedly rapid, chime--as though someone were suddenly jumping forward. It struck two. I woke up, though I had indeed not been asleep but lying half-conscious. _ ”, he started, “ _ It was almost completely dark in the narrow, cramped, low-pitched room, cumbered up with an enormous wardrobe and piles of cardboard boxes and all sorts of frippery and litter. The candle end that had been burning on the table was going out and gave a faint flicker from time to time. In a few minutes there would be complete darkness. _ ” 

The Doctor was a good narrator. He used a calm and warm voice. He was funny and serious when required. After a little while he started really getting so into the story he began gesticulating furiously, as he usually did in his most passionate moments. Clara lost interest in the book and focused her attention on the man sitting in front of her, enjoying as fully as possible such an endearing sight.

* * *

“ _Leave us alone without books and we shall be lost and in confusion at once. We shall not know what to join on to, what to cling to, what to love and what to hate, what to respect and what to despise. We are oppressed at being men--men with a real individual body and blood, we are ashamed of it, we think it a disgrace and try to contrive to be some sort of impossible generalized man. We are stillborn, and for generations past have been begotten, not by living fathers, and that suits us better and better. We are developing a taste for it. Soon we shall contrive to be born somehow from an idea. But enough; I don't want to write more from_ Underground.”, the Doctor finished, finally looking up from the last page.

He hadn't even noticed Clara falling asleep. He wondered when did that happen, and how long did he go on, totally oblivious to whether she was following the story or not She looked incredibly peaceful. He wondered how did she manage to do that, while he was so caught up in such a passionate narration. He smiled and tucked her in. He did it very gently, so not to wake her. 

Before leaving the room he lent down, brushed some hair from her face and pressed a kiss on her forehead.

* * *

Clara woke up with a start, raising immediately to a sitting position and looking around in confusion. She scratched her head and then rubbed her eyes. She had not realized she was falling asleep. A second she was listening to the Doctor's voice, the next she had woken up alone. There was nothing unusual about that, but nonetheless she didn't like the feeling. It was then that she realized what was missing. Who was missing.

She jumped hurriedly off the bed and without looking what time it was she hurried out of the room and downstairs. She could see it was still dark by looking outside the window.

Clara found the Doctor sitting on the sofa in the living room. She had seen him in that position countless times before, his book close to his face. She had always wondered why he wore those glasses which made him look even sillier than he already was. She suspected they were supposed to be worn by a woman and she had soon reached the conclusion that he didn't really need them and that they were really a memory. She hadn't asked him, though. Her Doctor didn't like to talk about the past. Nothing that was important, anyway. She didn't mind. Clara knew he would probably never tell her his whole story. She could feel the field he had built to secure the people around him from his fears and mistakes. She didn't know about all of his ghosts, but she could see them in his eyes and in that way she knew him truly.

The Doctor didn't hear her arrive so she just stared at him with happiness curving her lips in a sweet smile. He finally looked up and saw her. His eyes softened and he beamed at her.

“Good morning, sleepyhead”

Her smile widened at the nickname. “What time is it?”

“About half past four”

She approached the Doctor and she let herself fall right next to him. Unconsciously, she had chosen to sit closer to him then it was appropriate but not much closer than they usually were. Their bodies touched and he flinched, but then she could feel him relax, so she decided to follow what her heart wanted, rather than what her head told her she should do. She leaned towards him and rested her head on his shoulder and her hand on his right hand. They stayed in silence before he leaned into her and took her hand into his. They were so close she wondered whether he could feel her heart pounding furiously in her chest. After a while he razed his gaze form their intertwined hands and they both lifted their heads. They looked at each other and their eyes interlocked.

“So”, he started. She wondered if he was lost in her eyes in the same way she was lost in his. It certainly looked so. “You didn't like the book, did you?”

“Why would you say that?”, she asked him confused.

“Well”, he laughed, “for one thing, you fell asleep”.

“I actually love that book. That is why I decided to read it again”, she replied, “I thought it was time”.

“Oh”, the Doctor frowned, “So was it me? I knew I was a lousy reader, I-”. She silenced him by rapping her arms around him. “You are NOT a lousy reader”, she tightened her grip, “you're an incredible reader. I was just tired”.

She freed him from her hug and he replied with a smile. They stared at each other again, the house was big and silent but it didn't feel that way. It felt as if they were in a small and intimate place. She returned her head on his shoulder, which looked as though it was a place created just to let her in. She smiled and relieved a sigh of happiness.

* * *

Everything ended much earlier than she had expected and that wasn't even remotely near to what she had hoped for. When she heard the voice she had different reactions to it. At first she was simply startled. Then she hugged the Doctor as if she was trying to keep him from flying away from her. Then she retreated afraid from him and jumped away, burned and humiliated and hurt.

It had happened suddenly: the hearth had shaken slightly and a buzzing sound had filled the air. The voice, which had boomed all around them, was the same, cold one they had heard the previous morning. It said:

 _"By the decrees of intergalactic security from epidemics and maladies, the safety levels have been reached and the quarantine required for the security of the human race has been revoked. We are sorry for the inconvenience and we thank you for you patients. We wish you a good day"_.  No one said anything straight away. Clara broke the silence: “So...”, she could feel her voice tremble, “The quarantine is over, you're free”. The Doctor raised to his feet, too. His face lighted up like a Christmas tree. She couldn't admit to herself why his reaction hurt her like a knife curved into her chest. She avoided his gaze and put a safety distance between them. He probably sensed the shift of feelings because he seemed alarmed when he asked “what's wrong?”. How did they get to know each other so well, she thought? Or maybe she was giving up on containing her emotions in front of him, because she was so used to being in control all the time that she didn't realize how he could understand her so quickly. She ignored the question by changing the subject. “So that is really good news”, she nodded and faked a wide smile, but it was probably too late for him to be fooled, “are you...going to be off, now?”

-He stared at her in silence, before replying “Ehm.... I don't know”, he replied awkwardly, “I hadn't thought about it, but I think I might”.

“I see”, she hoped he couldn't feel the desperation in her voice, because inside she was shouting for him to stay.

He moved a step closer. “Is it OK? Don't you want to come?”

She automatically shook her head, but then she regretted it when she saw his face. It was as if she could see his heart brake. She couldn't stand it. She wanted to mend it. So she filled the space between them and she kissed him

Her heart was beating so fast she couldn't breath, because she couldn't really believe what she was doing and how good it tasted. Once she had started, she felt as if she would never be able to stop. She tasted his lips softly but with increasing desperation. She had to tiptoe to reach him and rap her arms around his neck, wanting to fall into the Doctor and be lost forever with him.

When he responded to her kiss, Clara's heart skipped a beat. Until then he had been too shocked to move. He had been completely motionless, he hadn't even tried to break free from her grip. He had just been entirely still.

He embraced her with his left arm and passed his right hand though her hair, pulling her whole body closer to him. They were chest to chest now, but it still felt it wasn't close enough. She moved an arm from behind his neck, so that she could cup is cheek with her hand. She could feel a strong urge in the way he was kissing her that made her fill dizzy.

She had completely lost any sense of time and space, for that matter, so she couldn't tell how long they had been kissing when they broke apart. They were both breathing fast. The Doctor was looking at her with an horrible look on his face and his mouth was opened in shock. “Oh god”, he mumbled, the pain clear in his voice, “What have I done?”. He fell back in the sofa and covered his face with his hand. Clara was unsure about what to do. She sat next to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“It's OK”, she whispered. He moved away from her as if she was fire and he had just been burnt.

He stood back up again. “No, it's not OK. It's definitely not OK”

“Why not?”

“Because I...” He sighed and stopped talking.

“Because you...what?”, Clara asked him anxiously.

He didn't say anything for a while, his knuckles pressed to his hips and his eyes avoiding hers. She observed each movement, fear gripping to every cell of her body. She tried to remain calm, but she couldn't keep her hands from shaking. Finally, the Doctor lifted his face and turned to look at her.

“Because...”, he sighed, his eyes between soft and in pain, “I...”

“Just say it!”, she burst out, almost jumping from her seat. She wanted to sound impatient, but she wasn't. She was worried and anxious. He gave her a sad smile , crouched in front of her and leaned forwards to cup her face with his hands.   
“Clara”, she shivered at the sound of her name, while he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs, “I've tried really hard but I failed”.

“Doing what?”, she whispered.

“Not falling in love with you”.

She felt as though her heart had stopped beating and all air had been sucked from her lungs. She felt all the blood flushing to her cheeks.

“Oh. What? Really?”

He seemed to hesitate but he eventually nodded. “But I can't. You'd only get hurt and...it's just wrong”.

She shook her head vigorously and desperately. “No”, she told the Doctor, with a soothing voice, “it's OK”

He didn't say anything, but he lent forward and kissed her again. The kiss was so soft and beautiful she couldn't think properly, but she could sense that something was wrong. When she realized that he was kissing her as if it was the last time, she gasped free from him. She didn't have the time to say anything. He rested his forehead to hers and moved his fingers to her temples.

“What are you-”, but the last thing she saw was the Doctor, his eyes veiled by the tears and the pain, before everything went black and she lost consciousness.

* * *

The Doctor laid her on the couch and didn't turn, not even once, to look at her when he run from the room and from her house. But not from her life. He wasn't strong enough for that. That was why he had not said goodbye to her. That was why he had erased those last few, beautiful, terrible hours from her memory. So that he could go on seeing her, always knowing what he could never have, but at least he'd still have her. He wouldn't loose her definitely. They would still be together.

He fumbled with the key once he arrived at the TARDIS. He almost let it fall to the ground because his hands were shaking. He stumbled inside and quickly started the engines to a random destination. He couldn't hear the noise through the thoughts that were pounding in his head, nor could he feel the ship scattering raggedly through the time vortex because he had become numb to everything but his heart, throbbing in his chest, painfully e without mercy.

He kicked and pounded the console, wondering why he never learned. Humans. It was always painful. A flash of images of old friends passed through is mind, making everything worse. The TARDIS rebelled to his fury and kicked him of his feet by making a rough turn. He staggered back to his feet just to be sent on his back again.

“OK” he shouted, angrily “All right. I'll calm down now”. Immediately he felt the TARDIS slow down its pace and the movements become gentle, as if trying to lull him to sleep. He sighed. He had done it before. He could do it. It was in his nature. Being a Time Lord constantly running away through time and space meant loosing your friend, every single time. And he had tried to accept it, but he continued getting hurt. Over and over again. Clara would go someday, no matter how hard he tried. It couldn't last. The best he could do was to try and minimize the damage. Keeping himself from crossing that line beyond which there was no turning back. Keep a safe distance. He would go back to her house next Wednesday, and act as if nothing had happen. As if he hadn't tasted the softness of her lips, as if he hadn't admitted to her that he had fallen in love with her even before he could come to terms with the concept himself. And everything would go back to normal.

 

 


End file.
